In Flanders Fields
by Holly Chase
Summary: Dennis and Colin are brothers. Sometimes that is all they need. :: Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction Leauge round 11.


**Round #11**

Characters: Dennis and Colin

Genre: Family and Hurt/comfort

Words: 2,118

_Song recommendation: 'In Flanders Fields' by John McCrae._

* * *

**In Flanders Fields**

The moment Dennis realised that there was something really special about Colin was when he fell from the huge oak tree in the park where they used to play. Dennis had been begging him to come down; to stop being stupid, but Colin kept on climbing higher and higher.

"Come _down_!" Dennis howled and Colin, surprised, let go of his branch.

He fell through the air, neither of them screamed until Colin stopped. He hung in the air, about an inch from the ground and suddenly they were both screaming. Then Colin slipped forwards and splattered into the mud and he began to laugh.

"I can do magic, Dennis, I _flew_!" he said, sitting up.

His brother was special because he could fly.

When Dennis looked back on this memory he would realise that maybe that was when he became special too.

* * *

Hogwarts.

The word held magic and mysteries and unexpected happiness. Dennis tried not to be too jealous.

"Write to me loads," he said quietly, hugging Colin who was bouncing with uncontainable excitement as he looked around the platform.

"Of course, I have my camera, don't I?" said Colin, patting the camera which was slung around his neck.

* * *

"Harry Potter is the youngest seeker in a century!" crowded Colin, excitedly flicking through his pictures, showing Dennis one where a man with golden hair and a huge smile that Dennis recognised from the front my of Colin's old spell books stood over Harry who looked dazed and tried to escape from the older man's grasp.

The next picture was one of Harry on the floor. "That was when all the bones in his arm were vanished," said Colin. Dennis's eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

* * *

_You're probably a Muggle anyway_.

Colin's words echoed through Dennis's head as he screwed up his eyes, desperate not to cry. _I won't cry; I won't,_ thought Dennis furiously, clenching his fists.

_You're probably just a Muggle anyway._

* * *

_Mr D. Creevey_… Dennis didn't need to read the rest; the green ink and cursive hand said all he needed to know.

"COLIN! DAD!" he shouted, running from his shared room and downstairs, tripping over the edge of his dressing gown and stumbling into the kitchen waving his letter. "I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS!"

* * *

"Try some accidental magic," encouraged Colin, nudging his brother. "You won't be able to do it after you start Hogwarts."

Dennis smiled. "Nah," he said. "I'm not you."

He didn't realise how knowingly he meant it until much later.

* * *

When Dennis fell into the lake it felt like the end of the world, all dark and swirling colours and shades of bluish black. And then a mass of huge solidified darkness grew from the water, wrapping around Dennis's tiny frame and thrusting him from the water back into his boat, sopping and streaming water to a little girl with dark hair sobbing.

"'Yeh alright?" asked the huge man, Hagrid, pulling his own boat beside Dennis's. All around him, Dennis could hear whispers and shrieks and the thundering of the rain.

Never mind that he felt cold and wet and scared, because his heart was beating like a drum and he was exhilarated. This would define him throughout his years at Hogwarts. "That was _amazing_!" he said.

* * *

Colin's eyes were what kept Dennis from shaking. With Hagrid's huge coat draped over him, all warm and wriggling with something and furry. When his name was called, Dennis just tripped towards the stool and felt the hat sink over his ears.

The last thing he saw was Colin, beaming.

* * *

"I can't believe it," said Dennis, jumping up and down, unable to contain his overwhelming excitement. "I can't believe it!"

Colin laughed, huddled in a corner beside the fire. The snug was perfectly fitted for them, tightly set into the wall, so small that it probably wouldn't have fitted anyone else. "You're at Hogwarts now, Dennis, start believing."

That becomes Dennis philosophy.

* * *

"I'm never going to remember all of this," groaned Dennis, face in his text book. There was a murmur of agreement from around him. There were thumps and Dennis deduced that everyone else had followed his example.

"Well, you're a sorry looking bunch aren't you?" came Colin's voice and immediately there was riot.

"Colin!" Dennis's friends clamoured and climbed over the common room furniture—and each other—to get closer to the infamous Creevey who had survived a Basilisk attack when he was only a first year and yet didn't treat everyone under four-foot as though they were dirt.

"Hey, guys, why so blue?" laughed Colin, prising Amelia from his arm where she hung like a monkey.

"McGonagall assigned us a paper on switching spells. She wants two scrolls but all we've written so far is… _'Switching spells are used when one wishes to switch two objects_'," read Dennis aloud from his work. "And there is _nothing_ else."

"Never fear, brother of mine…and all his friends," said Colin with an amused smile playing about his lips, "I have my old essay somewhere. I'm sure you guys will find it invaluable."

* * *

In the firelight Colin's hair was a bright brown, almost blond. He looked up from his book and grinned. Dennis smiled back, before turning to his own work.

* * *

A question had been tugging at Dennis's mind for some time now and so he went to the person he trusted most, respected above all others.

Dennis couldn't get past the gargoyle, which stayed completely still no matter what Dennis shouted at it; so instead Dennis went to Colin.

"Colin…" he said. Colin looked up from his potions notes. They were an indecipherable scrawl across tea-stained parchment as far as Dennis could see. "…What do you think about God?"

"What about him?"

"Well, do you think he exists?"

"I think that if he does, he must be a comedian," grinned Colin.

Dennis bit his lip. "But is he _real_?"

"Why does it even matter?" asked Colin. He put a hand on Dennis's shoulder. "So what if he doesn't, because Dennis, let me tell you, if he didn't then he would be invented."

"That doesn't make sense," argued Dennis.

"It means…oh never mind," said Colin, shaking his head. "Voltaire, I won't let you die."

* * *

"How comes no one here does poppy day?" wondered Dennis aloud. He suddenly realised that he and Colin were alone in their poppy wearing. He felt the urge to cover the red flower with his hand; some Slytherins kept looking over at him and Colin, spread across the grass under the willow.

"Don't cover it," said Colin, pulling Dennis's hand from his chest and twisting the plastic stem between his fingers. "It's part of our heritage, not theirs. It's our peace."

And then they fell silent.

* * *

"Does our Grandad have a medal?" asked Dennis.

"Of course."

"A big, gold one?"

Colin smiled: "The biggest, goldest medal ever seen."

* * *

There was a snap and a flash as Colin, with a wistful smile, took a picture of the huge fir tree, decorated with so much red and gold that even after last year, made Dennis wonder how on earth it managed to handle all the weight.

* * *

"Are you in the mood for ice cream?" asked Dennis.

"Always."

Dennis took note: "I _see_."

Colin sat up, looking confused. "Wait…why did you want to know that?"

"I'm going to use it as blackmail, or sell it to the nearest alien invader," said Dennis as he ran down the steps from the boy's dormitories, laughing. "Whichever I see first."

"Huh?" Colin was worried.

* * *

Dennis noticed that Colin always wore odd socks. When asked, Colin simply said: "I like it. It makes me feel whimsical."

Dennis didn't comment on it again.

* * *

"You have to try this," Colin burst into the common room. It had been raining; Dennis could see the sparkling droplets of water clinging to his hair and robes, weighted down under Colin's slim frame.

Dennis sat up straight, book falling to the floor. "I thought you were in Hogsmeade."

"I was," agreed Colin, "but I'm back now. I brought you this," he waved a bottle, narrow necked but with a deep-set base, "and these!" Dennis had a brown paper bag thrust into his hands. A quick glance inside confirmed Dennis original guess—that it was full of malignant objects.

"Zonkos! And Butterbeer," added Colin as an afterthought. "It's amazing! Next time, you have to come."

"I can't," said Dennis. "I'm too young."

Colin smiled wickedly, his teeth glinting and his eyes scrunched up. "Don't worry, you'll be there."

* * *

_SNAP_!

Dennis blinked the flash from his eyes. "Hey," he protested weakly as the world came into focus again.

"Sorry," apologised Colin, taking the camera down from his eyes, he couldn't wipe the grin from his mouth. "Really good lighting."

* * *

Harry looked nervous. Not that Dennis could blame him; he privately thought that Hermione had done well speaking with her voice raising an octave, the only indication of her anxiety. Colin still seemed to think that Harry was some kind of God, someone who should be worshiped. Dennis could see that Harry wasn't. Dennis wasn't sure if he liked that.

* * *

"_Stupefy_!" Dennis froze, falling back onto a mattress. Colin grinned down at him. "Got you again, brother."

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Dennis looked up at Colin uncertainly. "It smells like home," he said quietly and Colin's face twisted, as though the sheer devastating simplicity of Dennis's words caused him tangible pain.

* * *

It was dark in the corridor, Dennis crouched outside the classroom on the third floor, ear pressed to the door.

"I can't…"

"Please don't give in," Colin was saying. "Just…don't leave, come _on_."

Dennis didn't stick around to hear the rest of Colin's conversation with the Weasley girl.

* * *

It was dark outside, the cold air condensing on the slit window of Colin's bedroom. He and Dennis sat beneath the paisley covers of his bed by the light of his torch.

"I don't get it," said Dennis. "Why can't we go back to school?"

Colin took another deep breath. "Because we can't. It's because we're Muggleborn—,"

"It always is," said Dennis, crossing his arms. "I don't see why there's a difference."

"There just is," said Colin. "And we can't go back.

* * *

Christmas was a lonely, cold and sordid affair, even with their father trying to smile with his worn lips, and the snow thicker than ever late in December.

Colin didn't take a single picture and that was why Dennis felt that the world would end soon.

* * *

Dennis heard Colin's gasp of pain and felt a burning sensation pressed against the skin of his left leg at the same moment. He thrust his hand in his pocket, pulling out a golden galleon.

_Meet at Hogwarts, Harry's back._

* * *

The battle was a rush of people and colours and projectiles that one tried to avoid unless one wished for an untimely death.

And then there was Colin. Colin: so full of life; so constant. Suddenly Dennis forgot how to breathe. He forgot everything because there was no way that Colin was dead.

It wasn't possible; so Dennis didn't let himself cry.

* * *

When Dennis first visited Colin's grave, he swore he wouldn't cry. Instead, he took one look at the stone and felt the choking feeling swelling in his throat.

* * *

Colin had never let anyone see the photos he took—the sole exception being ones of Harry and Hogwarts for Dennis's benefit. Colin was scarcely seen without his camera, known throughout the school for his obsession with taking pictures, he'd snapped away his days.

Now Dennis looked, he found that he had only ever seen a tiny fraction of the thousands of pictures lining the trunk under Colin's bed. Moving ones, frozen ones, people, places and illusions filled the trunk with Colin's world; one that Dennis—and so many others—had never noticed.

Now Colin's world didn't have a Colin any more. Dennis felt a pain in his heart at the thought of no one again seeing the wondrous beauty of the world through Colin's lensed gaze. He picked up the camera and slung it round his neck. For safe keeping.

* * *

The first time Dennis returned to Hogwarts was not to start the new term, but to help in the reconstruction of the huge building that had almost been demolished.

He watched, the pain healing, the magnificent castle rising from the razed ground day by day and knelt beside a sweeping willow and planted a poppy.

.

_Fin_


End file.
